When The Pieces Don't Fit
by BecAlora
Summary: Ryan and Summer end up sending her off the way she deserved.


**Disclaimer:** Don't own anything.

**A/N:** Well this has been a long time coming. It took me forever to write this. I hope you all enjoy it.

**When the Pieces Don't Fit 1/1**

She looked at the picture in her hands and sighed. She didn't want to go today. Going to Marissa's funeral was like admitting that she was gone and Summer wasn't ready for that yet. She didn't think she'd ever be.

Tracing the photo lovingly she remembered when it had been taken. It was the summer of {insert appropriate date here} and the group had been at the beach. Seth had gotten a new camera and was obsessed with taking _artistic_ photos. Most of them had turned out pretty shitty and obviously posed, but he had gotten a few candids that were just spot on. This had been one of them.

If you just glanced at it you would see two girls looking at the ocean, one girl leaning on the other. It was symbolic of their friendship. Everyone always assumed that Marissa was leaning on Summer, that she was the one holding her together. If you looked closer however, you would see that Summer was leaning into Marissa ever so slightly, their hair blowing together in the wind. They were a circle, two halves of a whole, soulmates if you believed in such things. Marissa had always been the only constant in Summer's life. She was the only thing she had to hold onto with such an inconsistent dad and a string of boozy trophy wives. It wasn't just Marissa needing Summer, she needed Marissa too.

Only now, or as of two weeks ago, Marissa was dead. Killed by a guy she'd trusted that turned out to be bad for her. Wasn't that always the story though? Marissa always trusted the wrong guy. Though, Ryan Atwood had been an exception. He had been good for her, brought her happiness when she'd had so little of it. Only, Marissa never seemed to hold onto Ryan as tightly as she should've. She always left him for a Luke or an Oliver or even an Alex. Even now, Summer could barely understand that move. She and Marissa had never talked about it though. Summer regretted that now.

Summer regretted a lot of things concerning Marissa. When you're young, you think you have all the time in the world to _grow up_ and discuss all the stupid things you did in the past. Summer would have liked to know Marissa better, though that was impossible now that she thought about it. Summer might not have understood some of Marissa's more outlandish decisions, but she _knew _Marissa better than even Julie could call claim to. Still, she had questions that she wanted answers to. Subjects she had never breached. And maybe she already knew some of the answers, but it would have been nice to have the time to hear Marissa say them.

She steps into her black dress. It's not fancy, nothing Marissa would have ever _liked_, let alone something Summer herself would allow people to see her in, but this wasn't an occasion where Summer wanted to stand out. This was a time to blend so that her grief could flow and no one could chastise her for it. Not that she expected that anyone would. Marissa had been her constant companion since she was six. She _should_ be splitting at the seams and falling apart.

Her phone buzzes and she looks at the caller ID. It's Seth. She allows the call to go to voicemail. It's the third time he's called today. Summer gets that he's worried about her and that he wants to be there for her, but she doesn't want to deal with anyone right now. No one _really_ understands what she's going through. No one loved Marissa like she did. No one was on that level.

Except that one person was. And unluckily enough for her, he was the one person that wouldn't be there to mourn Marissa with her. He was on some half-cocked mission from Julie. A part of her hates him for not grieving with her. He's the only person that she can talk to, that will remember Marissa the way she does. While she's in a town full of people that Marissa was related to or grew up with, she knows that Marissa didn't really trust a lot of people. And most of those people with stories? Marissa's half-drunk or drugged up beyond belief. Yeah, she was the life of the party, but she was so much _more_. It pains Summer that "the life of the party" is what Marissa's going to be remembered as.

Summer slips on her flats and brushes her hair slowly. If Marissa was here she'd make her change. If Marissa was here she'd make her wear something that would cause a scene. Marissa loved scandal. Marissa loved to rebel. She looks at the picture again and takes a deep breath. Marissa isn't here to cause a scene anymore. She will never go to another fashion show or flash another bus of college kids just cause she wanted to.

A knock sounds at her door and she doesn't move. She doesn't want to answer it. The last person who knocked on that door was Marissa and she was only coming to give Summer the lowdown on what she'd do for the year. She'd been so excited to be with her father for a year, get out of Newport, and not have to live under her mother's scrutiny. Summer had been supportive, but half-mad at the same time. Why was Marissa always running? Why couldn't she stay and face the mess she'd made? She'd asked her those things and Marissa's face had dropped. She left quickly after that. Summer wished she had told her how much she loved her and would miss her instead. Hindsight is 20/20 and if she knew then what she knew now...well then this whole thing wouldn't have happened.

"Summer?"

She sucks in a breath and opens the door, "What are you doing here Atwood?"

He wordlessly holds up a bottle of vodka and shrugs, "Didn't want to drink alone."

Summer moves aside to let him in, grabbing the vodka as he moves toward her bed. He's already half drunk, she can tell. "Are you skipping the funeral?"

"Yes." He says. He looks at her with those eyes that pulled Marissa in every time and Summer finally understands his appeal. Those eyes could make you forget everything. And right now? Summer _needs_ to forget.

She takes a long drink from the bottle

This is fitting. Marissa would be laughing at the irony if she could. Summer should be at the funeral with her boyfriend, but instead she's here at her house with Marissa's ex, paying tribute to her in the exact way she'd always told Summer she'd wanted to be sent off in. "So what's your best Marissa memory?" She asks Ryan as she passes him the bottle.

He smiles painfully, "So this is what we're going to do? Tell a Marissa story and then drink?"

Summer nods and shrugs, "It's what," she pauses and breathes, "it's what she would have wanted."

"Fitting." He says shortly. Thinking for a moment he turns to Summer, "Do you know about the first time I ever saw Marissa?"

Summer shakes her head, "No. Tell me."

He stumbles over his description, his words painting the exact girl Marissa was. He talks about her ethereal beauty, her inability to stay out of trouble, her good heart, and so much more.

They go back and forth until they're forced to break into her father's liquor cabinet. It's a cabinet that Summer's known how to get into since she was fourteen and Marissa wanted to experiment with alcohol.

"I remember this one time, " Summer begins, "We were fifteen and Marissa wanted a tattoo. We had to make out in front of the owner. I think he had a teenager fetish because Madison and Claire did the same thing to get theirs. Or maybe he just had a fetish period. But she got her tattoo. I bet her mom would completely flip if she saw our 'best friends for life' tattooed on the inside of her thigh." Summer laughs heartily, "I bet that guy thought we were lesbians, but we just really didn't want our parents or anyone else to know that we'd done it. It was one of those secret best friend things. Seth still doesn't know about mine." She pauses and looks drunkenly at Ryan, "Did you know about hers?"

Ryan nodded. "I saw the symbol a couple of times. She never told me what it was for. She just said that if she'd wanted me to know what it meant then it would've been written in English." He laughed bitterly and took a shot of Bacardi Rum. "I miss her."

His says it so simply, so anguished, that Summer can't help what happens next. She straddles him and presses her lips to his hard and insistent. It's fast, messy, and over before they even realized what they'd done. Summer lays her forehead against his, tears running down her face, "I miss her too."

He holds her while she cries and, for the first time since Marissa's death, he doesn't feel alone. Being alone and feeling alone are two different things. When you're alone all you have is yourself. It's a lonely existence, but you don't depend on anybody for companionship. You learn a lot of things about yourself through loneliness. But feeling alone is another matter entirely. You can be in a room full of people and never feel like anyone there can be bothered to acknowledge you. Ryan's pretty sure that being lonely by yourself is much better than feeling lonely in a crowded room.

That's how that funeral would have made both of them feel. This was how they were supposed to send off Marissa. They were supposed to be together, the two most important people to her, and _mourn_ her until they couldn't mourn her anymore. They knew her _best_. It was always supposed to be the two of them reminiscing about better times.

She cries until she can't cry anymore. It hurts. Her whole body hurts. But mostly it's her heart. She looks at Ryan from her perch in his lap and notices a picture frame beside him. She picks it up and sees the four of them looking back at her. Marissa is smiling, Seth is kissing Summer, and Ryan just has this secret little smile he's smiling at Marissa. It's them at their finest.

It doesn't take long for Seth to find them after the funeral. He sees them cuddled by the pool and pulls off his tie, "The funeral sucked."

They both nod. Seth pulls Summer into his lap, kissing her forehead. Sometimes, things break. And when you assemble the pieces they don't fit. They'd all been about putting the pieces back together and ignoring the brokenness. But now, now they know. When the pieces don't fit, you break them til they do. You break until they're better.


End file.
